


Midnight

by jahnabelle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jahnabelle/pseuds/jahnabelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wake to find Sam on the cusp of having a nightmare about the Cage. Set after 11x08.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight

He dreams about the cage. 

You will wake first—you’d always been a light sleeper—and listen. The hitch in his breath, the tension in his body, the way sweat beads along his hairline, visible only in the dim golden light of the nightlight they have by the door: all indicators. Flashing warning signs. You sit up, prepared, but you don't move in time. 

He goes stiff, back ramrod straight, and you can see his eyes screwed shut. The veins in his neck pop, he arches his back, and Sam screams. 

“Sam, wake up!” Your hand is on him in a flash, but he jerks away from you, his body nearly tumbling from the bed. You grab the soft fabric of his nightshirt, shaking him, curling your body around him protectively. He’s trembling, sweating, and he grabs at you like a drowning man grabs a life preserver in the middle of swelling seas. “Sam, it’s alright,” you whisper, reaching up to smooth the hair away from his forehead. “I’ve got you, it’s alright.” 

His eyes are open now, but you aren’t sure that he’s seeing. “The cage—” 

“I know,” you say softly, voice breaking slightly. You pull him closer, as much as you can, his big body too heavy. “You’re not there. You’re with me.” 

There’s a pause. Sam lays still—save the trembling. You can feel his heartbeat thudding against your ear, and you breathe in deep, steadying yourself. 

“You sure?” he asks, hoarse. His voice drops to a whisper. “What if this isn’t real?” 

You sit up then, reaching over to turn on the lamp next to the bed. The room fills with light, and you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m real,” you say, reaching for his hand, folding your fingers together. “This is real. You’re not in the cage, Sam, and Lucifer isn’t messing with you.” You gaze at him, biting your bottom lip, hoping that maybe this time, he believes you. “It was just a dream.” 

He stares at you for a few drawn out moments. You breathe in tandem, hearts beating on rhythm. Sam looks like a wounded animal, something you’d just let out of a trap. His brows are furrowed, mouth slightly parted, and you can tell that he’s trying to discern for himself if this is real or not. Sunflower eyes blink slowly, and you can see the shift behind them. This is real. 

You lean down and kiss him softly on the lips, barely there, the chastest you can manage, before reaching over to turn out the light. A pause, just a moment, and a look back to him. “Okay?” you ask, a whisper, and Sam nods. The light goes out, and you tuck yourself under his chin, wrapping your arms around his broad torso and tugging him close, as close as you can get. 

You’ve talked about this before. The Darkness, ever advancing, and Sam’s visions. The dreams he’d been having. The messages he thought were coming from God. You had shared some of Dean’s skepticism at first—you prayed as much as Sam did, but visions from God? Sounded just a bit out there. But you knew the change in Sam, could sense the shift toward worry and despair, hiding right there under the surface. The cage was a place of terror and wounds still left unhealed—the idea of him throwing himself back down there frightened you. You were sure it was worse for him, grappling with what he thought would be his fate. 

You pull him tighter to you, so tight that he lets out a sleepy laugh. 

“Maybe I should be asking if you’re alright,” he says, voice muffled as he leans down to kiss you hair. 

You don’t reply right away. You kiss his chest and take a deep breath, commits this moment to memory. He still smells like toothpaste and aftershave, and the cotton grey shirt he’s wearing smells like the bunker’s laundry detergent, with just a hint of something Sam. Woodsy and dark, the scent that you found at the collars of his hoodies, or on his pillowcase. Familiar. You don’t want to think about the possibility of not being able to remember this. 

“Y/N?” 

“I’m okay,” you say, tilting your face up to look at him. In the dark, in the dim light from the nightlight, his face is cast in shadow. You lean up to kiss his chin, then his mouth, slide your hands up to rest on the planes of his chest. You can feel his heart beating under your hands, can feel your own thudding through your chest, your head, your ears. Your time is ticking down and you can feel the sand of the hourglass slipping through your fingers. 

“You sure?” is his whispered response once you pull apart, eyebrows knitted in concern. 

“Mhm,” you say, and you press another kiss, chaste, to the corner of his lips. You tuck your head under his chin once more and shut your eyes. Maybe you can find a better solution than Sam throwing himself back into the cage. It terrifies you that the man slipping back to sleep underneath you is willing to put himself through that kind of torture once more, without a guarantee of ever coming back. 

You reach down to pull the blankets up higher around you both. Sam shifts just slightly, slides a hand into your hair, and his breathing deepens, evens out. This sleep looks peaceful, and you watch the lines in his face go slack as he drifts off. You close your eyes as well, but you don’t sleep—instead, you doze, drifting in and out of wakefulness, trying to remember every part of what it’s like to be in this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic posted on Ao3! thank you for giving it your attention, and any kudos/comments are much appreciated!


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